


No Happy Endings

by BrandonJT



Series: Vintage Vignettes [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Angie Martinelli, Bisexual Peggy Carter, Multi, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9393935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonJT/pseuds/BrandonJT
Summary: For girls like her, fairy tales didn't exist. There were no happy endings, no princesses to sweep her off her feet.





	

The first time she walked into the L&L Automat, her heels tapping against the floor, her wavy brown hair over her shoulders, that deep red shade of lipstick on those perfect lips, Angie Martinelli was in love. She dropped the plastic tray she was carrying onto the ground, causing it to slam down onto the floor, and her co-worker snickered. Nice one, Angie, 'ya just humiliated yourself in front of the pretty lady.

 

From an early age her mother had instilled in her the idea that when the one walked into your life, you would know. Her papa said the same, the two sharing that corny story whenever they got the chance. She used to believe it. But Angie, for all her wit and her optimism, had been put through the ringer. Her career was going nowhere, and for girls like her, fairy tales didn't exist. There were no happy endings, no princesses to sweep her off her feet.

 

The woman picked up the tray and handed it to her, a small smile on her face. Angie stuttered, as the brunette seated herself in front of the counter.

 

"I've had a rough day too." she said in an upper-class British accent. Angie just bluntly stared at her, in a daze.

 

"Thanks for the tray, English." Angie spoke, a goofy grin on her face. English smiled at her and laughed.

 

"English?" she asked, raising both of her eyebrows. What a silly nickname, from a charming girl with that familiar Brooklyn accent.

 

"I don't exactly know 'ya name." Angie answered, shrugging before she handed her a menu. Her eyes quickly moved through the list, as she slapped some money onto the counter.

 

"A rhubarb pie and coffee, black. Unless you've got tea..." English muttered. Angie shook her head and smiled warmly.

 

"Got an appetite, huh?" Angie teased, already enamored with the British woman she had just met. A woman who was likely to finish her meal, walk out of the diner, and never come back. Why did she get so attached?

 

"I just got off a plane, actually." she commented, looking up at Angie. God, she had gorgeous eyes. And she said something about a plane. Oh god, she hadn't even gotten her coffee yet. Benedica la tua anima, Angie, you were not meant to be a waitress.

 

"Coffee and rhubarb pie, right English?" Angie asked, embarrassed. English nodded as the waitress scratched the back of her neck. She thinks you're a klutz, Angie.

 

"Oh! And what's your name?" English questioned, as Angie poured her a cup of hot coffee. She handed the British woman her mug and went over to get a full rhubarb pie out from the kitchen.

 

"Angie Martinelli! You can call me..." Angie began, setting down the pie on the counter. English dug into the pie as a man barked at her.

 

"Hey, doll, can you serve me as well as you can blabber?" the "gentleman" shouted at her. She nodded, demeaned, and walked over. This was just a part of her job, jerks and all. There was nothing to be done about it, she reasoned, and she was just happy to be back at the counter in front of the perfect stranger.

 

"I can call you what?" she asked, a smile on her face as she stuffed her cheeks with pie. Angie snorted and she raised an eyebrow.

 

"What are you laughing about, Darling?" English murmured, swallowing her food. Angie leaned on the counter and gave her best serious face.

 

"It's nothing...it's totally the pie, English." Angie bursted out in laughter as the woman opposite of her grinned. She looked just as relieved to have a friend to talk and laugh with on a rough day. The two stayed there, deep in conversation for what seemed like hours. By the end of it, English left a generous tip on the table and walked away from the seat.

 

"By the way, my name is Peggy. Peggy Carter." she said as she walked through the revolving doors of the diner. Angie sighed happily and put her hand on her chin.

 

"Peggy, huh?" Angie murmured to herself. She had a feeling that she hadn't seen the last of that woman, who she knew so little about but felt so comfortable around.

 

The jerk who harassed her walked out of the diner soon after. She never saw him again.

 

* * *

Angie was estatic when Peggy became a regular at the automat, even happier when she became a resident of the Griffith, and for all their ups and downs, she could hardly believe that Peggy would trust and like her enough to invite her to stay at the residence of one Howard Stark with her. Gee, Peg really didn't work at the phone company.

 

She was a darling housemate, always eager to listen about the hellish customers she had to deal with on a day to day basis. Peggy couldn't cook to save her life, and she was sloppy too, but she knew how to make Angie feel like the future was worth seeing through. Angie tried to do the same for her, getting in the habit of packing her best friend lunch, always with some encouraging note.

 

It was the little touches like these neither of them aknowledged but they both deeply appreciated. Little whistles as they walked around, small smiles they shared, that's how they showed gratitude. But as Peggy sat there on the leather couch, ready to relax on a rare off-day, Angie realized something.

 

For as much about her personality and habits she knew, she was in the dark on Peggy's past, and her occupation all the same.

 

"Hey, English?" Angie murmured, uncertain on what answers Peggy would give her. She was always so mysterious, so stoic, she would definitely brush her off.

 

"Yes, Angie?" Peggy muttered, intently reading a file. Even on her off-day, she got into whatever she did as if they were the crime novels Angie read.

 

"After that time I saved your butt, I figured you owe me an explanation on what 'ya really do for a living." Angie said confidently, hands on her hips. Peggy looked up at her with raised eyebrows.

 

"Angie..." Peggy began, moving over on the couch. She patted the couch cushion next to her and Angie sighed. Here came the speech about responsibility, and her safety, and-

 

"You have to promise me you won't give me up if someone comes looking for me." she said, a grin on her face. Angie nodded fervently and hopped down on the seat next to Peggy.

 

"If I didn't before, why would I start now, Peg?" Angie answered as she smiled warmly at her housemate. This woman was just full of surprises.

 

"I work for the Strategic Scientific Reserve, or the SSR." Peggy explained. From the calm look on her face, she knew this day was coming.

 

"...So you're a genius?" Angie asked, her eyebrows raised. God, she was smart, beautiful, charming...what were they talking about again?

 

"No, no! I work as an agent for them, doing field work, Darling." Peggy explained, laughing to herself. Angie smirked at her.

 

"Yeah, being a spy seems right up your alley, English." Angie teased, a big grin on her face. Agent Carter, huh? That had a nice ring to it.

 

"Does it?" Peggy asked, her eyebrows narrowed. Her best friend grinned and threw up her arms innocently.

 

"With the hours you're gone, you're either a spy or 'ya got some mystery man, Peg." Angie replied, causing Peggy to blush a deep red.

 

"Angie!" Peggy scolded, as Angie giggled to herself. Nothing in this whole world was better than getting Peggy riled up. Or maybe making her smile. She wasn't sure yet.

 

"Alright, English, I'm just yankin' your chain. Since we're here, though...maybe I can hear a bit about 'ya past?" Angie prodded, doing her best puppy eyes. Peggy looked over at her.

 

"I want a pie. Preferably cherry." Peggy bargained, her face completely deadpan despite the silliness of the situation. Angie met her gaze, equally serious.

 

"Deal." Angie responded, as a big grin came onto her face. Peggy smiled at her contently, and while she was always hard to read, it was almost like she was relieved. Relieved to have someone she could tell it all to, someone she trusted enough to do that. And then Peggy told her everything.

 

From her childhood, all about the little girl who refused to stand in line, to her turbulent teenage years. Angie took special interest in how she and her mother clashed, two different generations with wildly different ideas on life pitted against each other. About her brother, who Angie now wanted to meet but never could, and even the man she was once to marry before she so bravely ran off. That was her Peggy.

 

"And that's all of it, Angie." she finished, letting out a deep sigh. Angie felt closer to her, if that was even possible. Angie had had friends in the past. But someone you trusted, and so dearly cared about? In that way, Peggy was no less than family, even if they had only known each other for around a year.

 

"English, you expect me to believe you were ever like that? No way." Angie responded, her eyebrows raised as she rested her feet on Peggy's legs.

 

"I told you I'd tell you the complete truth." Peggy retorted, before shrugging. Angie read her over, doubting her best friend would ever lie to her but not completely believing someone as stubborn, as determined as her would ever settle for any semblance of a normal life.

 

"How can I prove myself, then?" Peggy asked, and Angie smiled, laying her head back on the couch cushion and yawning.

 

"Tell me another story, English." Angie pleaded. Peggy looked over at her and sighed, a small smile on her face.

 

"Alright, fine..." Peggy said as she began to recount another one of her war stories for Angie. This time she went into her first days in the war, her daring rescue of the brilliant Dr. Erksine. At this point, Peggy's life seemed like that of the lead's story in a moving picture, she was the tough broad who went from humble beginnings to heroism.

 

Then, right as they went into Erskine's work, she just...stopped.

 

"Now that really is all, Angie." Peggy abruptly closed the conversation, clearing her throat and grabbing the file back off the coffee table in front of them. Did she really expect Angie to just drop it, after they had come so far? After how much she had opened up?

 

"What about the past five years, English?" Angie asked, crossing her arms. Peggy shot over an annoyed look at her.

 

"I don't want to talk about it, Angie. That's it." Peggy muttered, her eyebrows furrowed. Angie was hurt, she was in disbelief, and when she felt like that, she got irrational. It was just how she acted.

 

"Fine, if 'ya don't trust me!" Angie spat, storming off. Peggy sighed and buried herself in the SSR file, rubbing her temples.

 

Maybe Peggy didn't really trust her after all.

* * *

  The two avoided each other for the rest of the day, and the day after too. Whenever Angie doubted herself, she asked what her mother would do. She could see her ma, eyebrows raised and hands on hips, scolding Angie for prodding and being so nosy. She was shameful, scared about how she might have tarnished their friendship. Nothing sounded worse than losing Peggy.

 

It was a late night, and Angie had tired herself out with radio dramas and going over scripts. For now, all she needed was a good night's sleep. But it felt empty without a best friend to go to, listen to and share in their pain, squeeze their hand and say sogni d’ oro, with a happy heart and some inkling of hope for the day ahead.

 

But she tried to sleep, regardless. This wasn't the first late night her gal pal had worked, it wouldn't be the last, and there was no good in worrying about the future when she was so damn tired. So, Angie tucked herself in, turned off her lamp and with a big yawn, fell dead asleep in her pajamas. It was a deep, restful sleep. At least, at first it was. Then she saw the alleyway.

 

A little girl with blue eyes was peeking out from the backseat of a vibrant red car. It was the only source of color in the grayscale world that surrounded it. There was a man, no, there were three men. One was familiar, a nervous smile on his face and a mustache on his upper lip. The other two were towering, imposing thugs. At their sides were pistols, and then they drew the guns, and then-

 

Peggy was at her side, the bright light of the lamp shining in her face. Angie blinked several times as she rolled over to look at Peggy, a concerned expression on that beautiful face of hers. She swallowed and began to stutter something as that woman, showing a small, caring smile, brushed a hand through her hair.

 

"English? What're you...mmm...doin' here?" Angie asked, her eyes closed. She let out a yawn as she patted the bed, a space reserved just for Peggy.

 

"They let me go home for the night, Angie. When I walked in, I heard you whimpering." Peggy told her softly as she hopped onto the soft mattress next to her best friend. Angie mumbled tiredly and rolled into Peggy's arms. She seemed a bit shocked at first, but then Peggy wrapped her arms around her, and held her close.

 

"I...my favorite uncle. He got into some bad stuff...they came for him when we were on a drive..." Angie quietly explained, as Peggy comfortingly caressed her head.

 

"He told me...he said Ang, stay in the back of the car, keep your head down. Parked outside an alley...and they shot him dead right there, I could hear the gunshots ring out. The nightmares don't happen as often nowadays...don't know what got into me..." Angie sheepishly muttered. Peggy looked into her eyes, her eyebrows down and close together.

 

"Darling, you never need explain yourself for a night terror." Peggy assured her. Angie nodded and made a noise of agreement, a small smile on her face.

 

"I guess...I guess that's when I learned that any day might be 'ya last. So you might as well be with someone you love, and be happy too." Angie yawned, Peggy putting her elbow up on the pillow. She was deep in thought, but Angie, nuzzled against her, eyes closed, would never have known that.

 

"It was called Project: Rebirth." Peggy said under her breath. Angie, eyes barely open, rolled over and looked at her, confused. Suddenly, she realized what Peggy was saying.

 

"English, I'm sorry for prodding, I just wanted to get to know 'ya better..." Angie apologized. She wasn't lookin' for pity or charity, she was above that, she thought.

 

"No, Angie, I'm sorry. I was shutting you out...you deserve more than that." Peggy countered, sternly looking into her best friend's weary eyes. Angie grinned at her and snuggled into Peggy's warm embrace.

 

"They were looking to make soldiers who could destroy the enemy...I was sent to train the candidates. That's when I met Steve Rogers." Peggy recounted, taking a deep breath. Angie energetically gasped despite her lack of sleep, as she looked up at the British brunette.

 

"You knew Captain America AND Howard Stark? Jeez, Peg, next 'ya gonna tell me you know the President!" Angie beamed. Peggy let out a small chuckle and moved a strand of hair away from Angie's face.

 

"Mmm, that's a story for another time." Peggy wryly commented. Given her delivery and her history, Angie was totally uncertain whether she was teasing her or not.

 

"He wasn't always the celebrity, the icon. He was once a young man from Brooklyn, short and skinny." Peggy revealed, as Angie quietly spoke.

 

"Was he...anything like me?" Angie asked. Peggy showed her a warm smile as her closest confidante leaned against her.

 

"In some ways. He was serious, maybe took everything a little too literally. You're both kind, and supportive, and unwaveringly optimistic." Peggy fondly recalled. Angie blushed a little, the hint of a small smile on her lips. Was this perfect? Yeah, it was pretty perfect.

 

"They chose Steve, not because he was big or strong or even a particularly good soldier. They chose him because of his heart. I suppose that's...that's why I fell in love with him." Peggy whispered, letting out a heavy sigh. Angie looked up at Peggy, the faintest tears in her eyes, and frowned.

 

"I never knew, Peg...you poor thing. The way everybody talks about 'im, and you're the only one that knows. But you can never tell them." she replied, equally guilty for hitting a sore spot and touched that Peggy really did trust her enough to share the full stoy.

 

"Yes, Darling...those five years are full of stories. So many good stories to tell over a bottle of Howard's finest and pie." Peggy hinted, wiping away her tears and showing Angie a sad smile. Poor girl.

 

"But for now we need to sleep, Angie." Peggy said, clearing her throat and moving to get off the bed. Angie looked over at her and muttered.

 

"Hey, Peggy...maybe you could stay? For the night?" was all Peggy heard. She laughed quietly, and with an inviting smile, rolled back over and held Angie close.

 

The two had never slept so well in their entire lives.

* * *

 

When Peggy tells her, slowly, softly, sadly, she'll be leaving for Los Angeles for a new case at the SSR, Angie isn't shocked. They're both career gals, and sometimes sacrifices must be made for the job you have, or the job you want. But she's crushed by it nonetheless, though she'll never show Peggy that.

 

"Angie, you're an aspiring actress, why not come with me?" Peggy asked, making a serious reach. When they first met, Peggy would never had said such a thing, not even in Angie's wildest dreams. But they had grown closer, all too close. This was too good to last, too good to be true for long.

 

"English, I wanna be on stage, not in a fancy picture." Angie reminded her, a flattered smile on her face. Inside she felt devastated, and while it was only temporary, Angie knew how taxing Peggy's occupation was. The case could be days. It could turn into months. That could turn into years.

 

"Yes, of course, I don't know what I was thinking...it won't be long, Darling." Peggy sweared, though Angie knew otherwise. But Peggy meant well, and she knew how to give a performance. She deserved a warm smile to send her, her best friend in the whole world, off.

 

"I hope not. Don't getcha self killed out there, Peg." Angie teased, the best goodbye smile she could muster on her face. Peggy smiled slightly as she took her suitcase and walked off to the doors.

 

"I'll try." Peggy left her with, opening the doors of Howard's estate and stepping out into the next chapter in her story. Alright Angie, that might be a little overdramatic. Just a tad.

 

She wouldn't let herself wallow in misery. While there was certainly a time for that, Angie went on with her normal life. Everyday she got up, smiled at herself in the mirror, and went in for work. Sure, there was no smokin' hot English girl to greet her everyday, nor a kind housemate to listen to the day's upsides and downsides, but she managed pretty well. Just like she did before she met Peggy. Angie might not've had a license to kill nor a handgun in her purse, but she was every bit a fighter.

 

Her worst nightmare comes true when she gets a phone call from Mr. Fancy. She's lucky she catches it, right as she's about to turn off her lamp to get a decent enough sleep before another day at the automat. But she feels a heck of a lot less lucky when she answers it.

 

"Miss Martinelli, this is one Edwin Jarvis." Mr. Fancy formally introduced himself. There was no need for it, as she would've recognized that voice anywhere. Yet, there was something discomforting about the shakiness of his tone.

 

"What's going on, Jarvis?" Angie replied, sitting down on her bed. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, glad to hear something, anything related to Peggy but as tired as could be and concerned all at once.

 

"Miss Carter was injured during a-" Jarvis began, and Angie trembled. Mortified of hearing anymore but knowing it was inevitable, knowing she had to hear it, she kept her composure.

 

"A case, yeah, I know about what she does...is she...is she okay?" Angie asked, shivering fearfully. Nothing, no pain on Earth was as bad as the empty pit in one's stomach when they were worried about a person they dearly loved.

 

"Well...she will live..." Jarvis muttered, tip-toeing around the subject. She was a nice girl, and she liked Mr. Fancy enough, but she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from prying the information out of him the hard way.

 

"That's not very comforting." Angie pointed out, swallowing. Jarvis said "yes, yes" to himself in his distinct accent before clearing his throat.

 

"I called you, because...I know how much you care for her. And how highly she regards you, Miss Martinelli." Jarvis explained, and Angie softly smiled to herself.

 

"Ahem, anyways, I must give the phone over to Miss Carter. She'll be happy to talk to you." Jarvis told Angie, and not long after, she heard that wonderful voice she had so direly missed.

 

"Oh god, English, is that you? Are you okay? Mr. Fancy said 'ya hurt yourself." Angie blabbered on, her words going a mile a minute. Ma had always said she talked fast when she was deathly scared.

 

"I can assure you I'm quite alright, Angie..." Peggy murmured, making a pained grunt. Angie raised her eyebrows, knowing that that woman would brush off a gunshot as if it were a scraped knee.

 

"Be honest, Peg, are you okay?" Angie asked, nibbling her fingernails nervously. Peggy took a deep breath and exhaled, doing little to convince her housemate.

 

"Not very comfortable. And I could use some schnapps. Pie would be nice, too. I also have this darling friend, and I would love to see her right now." Peggy remarked. Goddamn it, even 3000 miles away she could make her blush.

 

"I could fly out there tomorrow, English..." Angie quietly said, twirling the phone cord idly. Damn it, Ang, you probably sound like such a meatball right now.

 

"You will do no such thing, Darling, I would never ask you to give up your life there so selfishly. I will manage." Peggy commanded. Angie giggled and nodded to herself.

 

"Yeah, alright...how bad is it, Peggy?" Angie asked, a little more at ease but still on edge. She was convinced that Peggy would carry on a conversation if she was in the midst of a stabbing.

 

"Relatively decent for having gotten impaled..." Peggy told her nonchalantly, causing Angie to gasp over the phone. She could imagine a lot, but only Margaret Elizabeth Carter could survive something going straight through her.

 

"Forgive my language, but Jesus Christ, Peg!" Angie reprimanded, putting a hand over her mouth. The thought of seeing her closest friend, furthermore the woman she loved, suffering through that made her sick.

 

"I know, I know, I'll be fine, though, Angie. I promise." Peggy vowed, and that was all she needed to hear. She always knew that Peggy would never break a promise to her, even if she knew little else.

 

"Alright, English...be careful out there, okay?" Angie requested. She figured that wasn't asking too much of her, though she knew that you could only be so careful in her line of work.

 

"Of course. Good night, Darling." Peggy uttered through a yawn, and like that, she was gone once more. But it gave Angie some fuel, the gasoline she needed to keep on keeping on. Months passed, with a few phone calls in between when Peggy wasn't too occupied with the case of the day, or the week. It was enough to sustain her, until one day Peggy returned to New York City, bringing a visitor in tow.

 

As hard as she tried, she couldn't force herself to hate Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Or as Peggy called him, Daniel, Daniel Sousa, a coworker at the SSR, one of the few that weren't absolute meatheads. He was kind and respectful, every bit as impulsive and stubborn as Peggy, and Angie could instantly tell that he had his share of painful war stories from the crutch he relied on. Really, he had done nothing wrong, it was just the underlying jealousy she felt, try as she might to suppress it.

 

"You were Peggy's roommate, right? The actress?" Daniel asked, searching his head to try and remember Angie. Peggy and her new beau were seated in a booth, Angie still on the job. She showed them a smile and adjusted her hat.

 

"That's me." Angie confirmed, as she went to take their orders. She appreciated Daniel's politeness, and it was just as nice as ever to see Peggy with a content smile on her face.

 

"Angie...it's wonderful to see you again." Peggy said, as Angie looked back at them. She couldn't help but grin at her, a skip in her step as she went off to the kitchen.

 

As time went by it hurt less, and she eventually grew just as content as Peggy was. All that mattered to her was that the one she loved was happy, and if that was so, then nothing else really mattered.

 

It was a cold and dark evening, rain pouring down outside the automat. It was a particularly rough day, though she was having those less and less. The diner was busier than usual, and when things got busy, they got chaotic. She could handle jerks though, a co-worker slacking off, her boss getting snappy. But it did all build up, and as she was wiping down the counter at the end of the day, she felt exhausted.

 

That was when Peggy walked in, and she nearly bumped her head on the single light left on above the counter as she beamed up at her housemate in excitement.

 

"Hey, English! Sorry, we're almost closed. I can pack somethin' up for you, if you want." Angie exclaimed, relieved to see her after such a long day. It'd be nice to walk, or in this weather, drive home together. Peggy seated herself in front of Angie, looking weary. Curious, she raised her eyebrows.

 

"Bad day?" she asked, and Peggy chuckled, looking up at her with a small smile. Angie rested her arms on the counter, her best friend seeming speechless. That was a rare thing for Peg.

 

"No, no...well...Daniel and I separated." Peggy began quietly. Angie seemed shocked, and with a frown on her face, took Peggy's hands and squeezed them comfortingly.

 

"Pff, his loss, Peggy, you're a catch." Angie murmured, grinning at Peggy. Peggy cleared her throat, her cheeks a bright red. She had a good mind to sock that guy in the jaw for her. No one thinking straight would give up somebody like her.

 

"It's not like that, Angie." Peggy assured her quickly, shaking her head.

 

"Oh?" the waitress asked, her interest peaked by the way the conversation was going.

 

"He did the right thing, because...I'm in love with someone else." Peggy muttered under her breath. Angie opened her mouth when Peggy looked into her eyes, and she lost her breath. It couldn't be that she felt the same way. No way in Hell.

 

Peggy then grabbed Angie and kissed her passionately. Angie's blue eyes went wide before she closed them, reciprocating the kiss. They stayed there, in the dark on a rainy night, until Peggy pulled away, both of them panting. Angie grinned at her.

 

"You talk too much, English." Angie teased, a loving smile coming onto Peggy's face. This was too good to be a dream, she knew. It just had to be true.

* * *

 Soon after, Peggy and Angie were recounting their crummy days, both sat next to each other on the couch. There were brief moments she forgot how the hell she got there, how she stumbled into a relationship with such a perfect person. And hot damn, she could write an entire script on how wonderful it felt to kiss her best friend, not only that, her girlfriend. So in the middle of their conversation, she planted her lips on Peggy's.

 

"What was that for, Darling?" Peggy asked, her ruby red lips curled into a small smile. Angie shrugged, a sheepish grin on her face, though neither of them regretted it one bit.

 

"Can't ya tell when a gal is happy?" Angie joshed her. This prompted Peggy to grin right back at her, as she wrapped her loving arms around her newfound love. Angie nuzzled her neck and shut her eyes blissfully.

 

"Oh, Angie, you've saved me..." Peggy whispered in her ear. Angie sighed happily and shook her head slowly, because as nice as it was to hear that, it was wrong.

 

The opposite was true, in fact. Peggy had saved her. She had made her believe in happy endings again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I have a much bigger project on the way, but I decided to write this in the meantime, because you can never have too much Cartinelli.
> 
> Meatball is 1940s slang for dork, by the way.


End file.
